


Coming Clean

by CannibalKats



Series: Counting Stars [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Biphobia, Coming Out, Crossdressing, Fluffy Angst, Homophobia, M/M, yooseven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-05 03:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Yoosung decides it's finally time to come out to his parents but he never really expected it to go like this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick warning for Yoosung's parents being completely awful homophobic, biphobic, disasters.

“No,” Yoosung’s mother stands up from where she’d been sitting at the table shaking her head.

The word _boyfriend_ dies on his lips and he can feel Seven squeeze his knee under the table as his father’s eyes narrow on him.  He closes his mouth, inhales as slowly as he can to try to steady his nerves.  His mother has turned her back to him but his father’s eye seem curious, not yet unkind.

“So,” his father starts, “you’re gay then.”

“No but my boyfriend is,” Seven quips and then slaps his hands over his mouth, “ _sorry_ ,” he mumbles quietly before Yoosung can remind him that this is definitely not the time.

His father clears his throat still waiting for an answer.

Yoosung shakes his head. “No, not _gay_ , I’m bi, uh bisexual, I think, maybe,” he starts to ramble when his father’s face relaxes, “maybe Pan, I’m not sure I’m still, you know still figuring things out.”

He smiles at Seven when his father smiles at them turning to grab his mother’s hand, Seven gives his knee another squeeze under the table.

“Good, that’s good, right love?” His father coaxes his mother back to her seat, smiling softly at her. “You heard him say it himself, he’s not _gay_ he’s just confused.”

Yoosung’s heart sinks into his stomach. “I’m not _confused_ ,” he says firmly.

“You still _like_ girls though,” his father prompts.

He covers his face, this wasn’t what he expected.  He thought it would go very well or very bad but this was neither.  This was bad but, not the way he’d expected. “I guess,” he starts unable to bare the stares of his parents, “if I met the right one.  I don’t _dislike_ girls, but it’s not like I’m,” he sighs, “I have Seven.”

He reaches out and twines his fingers with his boyfriend’s under the table.

His mother stands up again shaking her head before her hands slam on the table. “No,” she says again.

“What?” He asks, he can’t help but sound petulant, it was all she’d said since he’d come in.  She’d known the second they got out of the car with their bags, they’d been supposed to spend the long weekend with his family, his sister would be out the next day.  He’d said Seven would sleep in his room she’d said _no_ , he’d said they were going to go pick something up for lunch, she’d said _no_ , he’d told his parents he wanted to talk to them about something and she’d said;

“No,” she shakes her head again, “you do not _have_ Seven, you do not have _a boyfriend_.  Yoosung what do you think your sister will tell her children tomorrow?  And if we go to church will _he_ come with us? What do we tell people when they ask who you’re seeing?”

“I go to church,” Seven tries, he continues despite Mrs.Kim’s withering stare, “you’d be surprised how little it comes up really, having a boyfriend I mean.”

“I suppose you go to confession?”

Seven blushes, and Yoosung swears he shrinks, he’s never seen Seven small before and he can’t stand that it’s his mother that’s made him shrink.

“I do,” Seven answers folding his hands on the table in front of him, “regularly actually.”

Yoosung hadn’t known that. 

“Do you confess _this_ ,” she gestures at the two of them with disgust plastered on her face and he can see Seven swallow and clench his teeth before he speaks.

“It’s not,” he starts and swallows again, words stronger the second time, “It’s not a sin to love.”

Yoosung can see that they’ve lost her, he wonders if they’d seemed repentant, if they’d both gone to church to confess their _big gay sins_ and seemed like they really felt bad about it would she have taken it better.  He’s horrified at the thought, almost as horrified as he is at the way his mother is interrogating them.

His parents glance at one another and he watches their faces, the silent conversation he knows happens before the good cop and the bad cop lay down the law, the ultimatum.  The thing _he_ has to do to fix his _mistake_ and he wants nothing more than to get up, to leave them there, to not give them the chance to shame either of them any longer. 

But when he turns and starts to stand Seven grabs his hand, gives him _a look_ and he finds himself sitting straight in his chair, his hands also folded on the table in front of him waiting for their verdict.

“This is done,” his father says softly, always the good cop, never standing up to her, not that he seemed to want to.

“I don’t understand,” Yoosung says quietly.

“ _This_ ,” his mother gestures at them again, “this boyfriends _, gay_ , whatever you _think_ you are, it’s done.”

He leans forward and squeezes his eyes shut, he can’t cry right now. “I don’t? No. No? You mean, break-up?  No, Mom, it doesn’t work like that, that’s not—”

“It’s over or we stop paying for your apartment, you like girls, date girls.” She says firmly. 

“You can do whatever you like in your personal time,” his father says, “that’s no one’s business but yours but you can’t do this to your mother.” As if jerking off to gay porn would somehow make up for the loss of Seven.

“I can’t do wh—”

“Get a girlfriend like a normal boy,” his father continues, “there were plenty of girls  calling here when you were younger, I’m sure it won’t be so hard, not now that you’re _feeling better_.”

 _Feeling better_ , like his depression had just been a particularly bad cold.  He chews on the inside of his cheek and tries to will the watering of his eyes to stop.  He can’t even make himself look at Seven. 

He’d have to get a job, he’d probably lose his scholarship, he was still trying to play catch-up after the last two semesters but he’s a good candidate for a loan, or at least he _thinks_ he is. Or maybe he could just move in with Seven, but he’d still feel like he needed to contribute.  Maybe he could work on campus? Maybe—

“Fine,” Seven says firmly. “Yoosung, we’re done, this is done.”

“W-what?” He stammers. “No, no,” he shakes his head, “we’re not? No!”

Seven stands and shakes his head. “You’re fun Yoosung, I really liked you, but I can’t have this on my conscience.  What are you going to do?  Get a job?” He laughs.

“I will,” Yoosung stands up and reaches for Seven’s hand.  “I’ll get a job.”

Seven pulls his hand back and shakes his head.  “You can’t Yoosung.”

He can hear how hard Seven is trying to be strong, to be cold, to be _Luciel_ , right now, but Yoosung can also hear how _sad_ he is under it.

“ _Saeyoung_ ,” he whispers the name, his _real_ name, the one he only uses when it’s just them.  Only Yoosung and Saeran use that name, the _most important people_ in his life he’d said.

But it only seems to steel his resolve. “You’ll lose your scholarship if you do,” he says. “I’m not going to be the guy who took your dreams from you, we’re done.”

And then he left. He walked out of the room, grabbed his knapsack from the bottom of the stairs and walked out of the house.  Yoosung stood frozen in place watching the door as he heard the engine of Seven’s flashy red car rev a few times before he pulled away.

“Well then,” his mother smiles and claps her hands together, “that went well I think, what a kind boy.”

“He must be a very good friend,” his father nods, like the last hour had not happened. 

Like the two of them had not cornered him and forced this, whatever had just happened?

Like his boyfriend had not just dumped him, right here, in front of his parents, at their _behest_.  As if they hadn’t watched his heart shatter in technicolour.

“What would you like for lunch Yoosung?” His mother asks, like it’s any other day.

“What?” He asks, his voice is almost shrill and he can feel the tears spill over his eyes.

“Oh honey,” his Mom coos handing him a tissue from her pocket, “are you alright, do you need to lie down?”

He shakes his head and leaves.  Seven couldn’t have just _left_ him here, not like that.  It was a joke right?  A bad one, sometimes they were, sometimes they went just a little left of too far but it was just a joke.  He walks along the sidewalk, the same one he’d walked a hundred times to school as a teenager, and he looks out for that flashy red car, listens for the sound of the revving engine, or the campy horn he’d installed because it made Yoosung laugh.

It’s nowhere.  He walks all the way to the train station and he _almost_ gets on the train, almost leaves without a word. _Fuck this_ , he thinks reaching into his pocket, furious.  Fuck his parents for being so terrible, for making Seven feel so small, for forcing him to— _Fuck Seven_ , fuck his savior complex and his need to always save Yoosung from him. God, he’s going to go home and he’s going to log into LOLOL for the first time in weeks and he’s going rage all night.

But the hand in his pocket comes up empty.  He’d put his wallet in his bag when he’d gotten into Seven’s car, he’d made a joke about the bulge in his pocket and Yoosung had blushed and shoved the wallet into the front of his bag.  Tears threaten again at the thought of going back.

He reaches into his hoodie, at least he still had his phone.  His stupid flip phone that Seven liked to make fun of.  He dials Seven’s number. Even if he was driving recklessly, which Yoosung knew he would be after the way he’d left, he couldn’t have gotten too far.  The call goes directly to voicemail and Yoosung groans and sinks into one of the hard plastic chairs.

He sits there for as long as he can force himself to.  He tries to call Seven a few more times but it continues to go straight to voicemail and Yoosung can’t bring himself to leave a message. 

He tries, he plans them out, he thinks he’ll leave a tearful message, pleading, but the voicemail beeps and he hangs up.  Then he decides to leave an angry one, defiant, _this isn’t over answer your damn phone_ , but that one dries up on his tongue and he sighs before he hangs up.  He gets out the first _ha_ , of _haha funny joke_ out before he chokes on a sob and hangs up.

He’s walking, defeated, back to his parents house when his phone buzzes in his pocket.  He doesn’t even look before he answers it, he’s so sure it’s Seven, but the voice isn’t quite right on the other end and he sighs. “Saeran?”

“My idiot brother forgot his phone charger can I talk to him I have a question about the gate override.”

“What?” Yoosung asks and Saeran is half way through repeating himself when Yoosung manages to process what he’d just said. “I mean, no.”

“No?” Saeran’s voice sounds almost amused.

But Yoosung is sick of the word no, even saying it was hard, and when Saeran had repeated it he suddenly heard his mother, every _no_ of the day running through his head.  He stops walking for a minute and bends over with a hand braced on his knee, trying not to throw-up.

“Yoosung,” Saeran says quietly, “hey is everything ok?”

“He’s not here,” Yoosung swallows, he really doesn’t want to cry again, he’s not sure he can until he feels the first fat wet tear roll down his cheek, watches it splash on the concrete sidewalk.  At least he’s not sobbing this time.

“Where did, Yoosung did something happen.”  Yoosung isn’t stupid, he’s been on the phone when someone has come into the bunker before and he can recognize the sound of the gate alert in the background and he can hear the shuffling of Saeran moving to his room.  “What happened?” He insists.

Yoosung sighs and slips inside a bus shelter, he doesn’t mean to tell Saeran everything, just to catch his breath, to stop the tears.  Tell him to ask his _idiot brother_ and hang up.  Instead he spills his guts, every horrible moment, every terrible thing his mother had said.  He’d wanted to give the twins a _real_ family and as nervous as he’d been, as scared and prepared as he’d been, he never _really_ _expected_ it to go bad, and he couldn’t be prepared for just how bad it had gone.

He sees the phone number from his parent’s house calling on the other line at least twice while he’s talking to Saeran but he doesn’t even bother to properly ignore it, he lets the beep sound while he talks, he doesn’t care.

“Yoosung,” Saeran says softly, “just hang in there, it’s ok, just because—”

“I know,” Yoosung says bitterly, “I know, I keep telling myself that but _you know_ , I just—”

“It’s ok,” Saeran interrupts. “Give him hell, you know?”

He smiles a little, he can tell by the tone that Saeran is planning to do the same and he nods even though he knows he can’t be seen.  They say their goodbyes and Yoosung realizes he can see his parent’s house from the shelter.  He swallows; he doesn’t know how he’s going to get through this weekend.  Maybe he won’t maybe he’ll leave in the morning take the bus back go right to Seven’s and _give him hell_. 

How dare he do this.

“Is something wrong with your phone,” his father laughs when he walks through the door, “you had your mother worried.”

Yoosung shrugs.

“Your dinner is in the oven,” his mother calls from the kitchen, “I didn’t know when you’d be back.”

He grabs his bag from where it sits in the middle of the bottom step, Seven had set his beside the wall, but that space was empty now.

He trudges up the stairs, he _considers_ that he is trudging up the stairs, contemplates the nature of trudging, and then he remembers watching A Knight’s Tale with Seven a few nights ago .  Seven had known all of Chaucer’s lines, had jumped up and acted them out while Yoosung scolded him for _ruining it_. He banishes the word from his mind.

He lays spread out on his bed, his mind still reeling when his phone vibrates again, he answers it again without looking.  Resigned this time that it wouldn’t be Seven and not caring _who_ was calling.

“Hey buddy,” Zen says softly and Yoosung can tell right away that he knows.

“Uh huh.”

“That bad?” Zen snorts.

“Yeah,” no point in lying, he wonders if everyone knows now.  Did Saeran tell them or did Seven do it himself.

“No one else knows yet,” Zen says, as though he could hear Yoosung’s thoughts, “I was supposed to have a few drinks and watch a movie with Saeran tonight,” he explains, “but uh, it wasn’t a good time.”

Yoosung sits up. “What do you mean?  Why wasn’t it a good time?”

He can almost hear the lazy way Zen was probably shrugging.  “You know what they’re like, but it was Seven locked in his room this time and Saeran seemed pretty pissed, I only know because Saeran was yelling about you, not because he told me.  I’m not even sure he knows I showed up, I have the override code memorized you know?”

Yoosung swallows but he doesn’t answer.  He can’t decide if he should ask, if he wants to know, “W-was Seven, did he answer.”

“I don’t know Yoosung, Saeran was pretty loud, I didn’t hear him but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoosung sighs flopping back down.

“So it didn’t go well?”

Yoosung groans, this time he can’t make himself recount all the ways it had gone _not so well._

“He just left you there?” Zen asks when Yoosung has finished summarizing the day’s events.

Yoosung lets out a bitter laugh. “Well he dumped me, was he supposed to drive his ex-boyfriend the 2 hours home?”

“Jesus Yoosung,” Zen snorts. “You want me to come get you?  I could talk to Jumin if you’d rather not get on my bike, he’s a jerk but he probably wouldn’t ask why.”

“N-it’s ok, don’t worry about me,” Yoosung manages.  “I don’t know, I might just take the train in the morning, or maybe I’ll wait until after my sister gets here.”

“If you change your mind let me know.”

Yoosung thanks his friend and hangs up. 

He lays in his bed watching the shadows on his ceiling as the sun sets and the glow in the dark stars glow dim and green in the growing blackness. He doesn’t undress, doesn’t even kick his sneakers off, or get under a blanket.  He just lays there, arms at his sides, phone still in his hand, the battery dangerously low now.  He drifts in and out of sleep, not really sure if he was awake or just dreaming he was awake.

It’s 4 in the morning when the phone in his hand buzzes but he doesn’t move to check it, it buzzes again, a few times in quick succession and he feels his heart beat out of his chest.  He can tell from the cadence of the alerts, it’s the way Seven punctuates his texts. With the enter button.

He inhales deeply and exhales slowly before he forces himself to sit up and find his charger.  He doesn’t want his phone to die before he sees what Seven has to say for himself.

[707]: I’m sorry Yoosung  
[707]: I’ve got a plan  
[707]: Just get through the weekend ok?

Two more messages come through as Yoosung is staring at the first three trying to figure out what this means.

[707]: Just curious but what kind of hair should your girlfriend have?  
[707]: Love you, babe.

He clutches his phone to his chest.

[707]: seen 4:17am lol  
[707]: UMAD?

Yoosung groans.

[Yoosungie]: I don’t want a girlfriend, I want you.  
[707]: OK but if you had a girlfriend what colour hair would she have.  
[Yoosungie]: When did you change my name?  
[707]: Focus.  
[Yoosungie]: I don’t know purple I don’t care I don’t want a girlfriend.  
[707]: I know, I’m sorry.  
[707]: You have to stay all weekend, ok?  
[707]: Come right here after though so I can make it up to you  
[Yoosungie]: This is going to suck  
[707]: Sorry ((((  
[Yoosungie]: I love you too  
[707]: ////// go to sleep babe.  
[707]: And can you ask my brother to stop yelling at me?

Yoosung makes it through the weekend, managing to get his sister away from her happy little family long enough to test the waters and then come out to her with a much better reaction.  She hugs him and ruffles his hair and texts him questions about his _boyfriend._ He sends her a picture of the two of them at the last RFA party and he can see her face light up across the room.  His heart feels lighter for it.

She sneaks into his room later that night with a couple of cans of beer and a cigarette and he tells the whole story one more time.

She hugs him, tells him it will be ok, and tells him to _hang in there_ until he gets his grades back together, “—then bring him back and tell them to go fuck themselves.” The words come out in a puff of smoke and he has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly.  “I’ll help you out when I can but we can’t afford to take care of you _and_ the kids right now.”

“I don’t, that’s not what I want,” he sighs, but he can’t wipe the relieved smile from his face. “I want to take care of myself.”

“Then do that,” she pulls him close and places a sloppy kiss on his forehead, he squeals and she shushes him, butting the cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe and tossing it out his window.  “Fuck them if they can’t accept you, that’s not your problem, you’ve still got me.”

She’s true to her word.  By the end of the next day the two of them are thick as thieves, and using poorly relayed messages from his nieces as their only communication with their parents.  He’d never felt so close to his sister.  She’d been so much older than him he remembers her more as a babysitter than a sibling.

“This is getting a little ridiculous,” his brother in law shakes his head; a squirming toddler is tucked under one arm.  “You both have to admit it’s childish.”

His sister scoops the sleeping first grader off of Yoosung’s lap and shoots him a look her knows means _can I tell him_ , and he nods.

The sun is barely up when he wakes up face to face with a drooling toddler. “Come on,” his sister whispers from the foot of his bed, “time to go, before they wake up.”

He barely makes it out of the house with all his things, but his sister has years of experience with forgetful gremlins and manages to pick up his slack.  He’s wedged in the back of his sister’s car between two enormous carseats and he can’t help but laugh. 

His parents had been awful but he had never known this side of his sister.  It almost seemed like an even trade.  He’d lost faith in his parents but here was his sister and her family swooping in, making certain he was safe and comfortable.  Making sure he still had family in his corner.

“I heard your mother talking about dropping you off today,” his brother in law says, “thought we’d save you from that.”

“I’m sure Mom has some fun lectures to remind you how awful she is,” his sister frowns at him in the rearview mirror.  “She’s easier to ignore in emails.”

Everyone hugs him good bye, and he doesn’t even cringe when his youngest nieces shoves a mushy cookie into his hand and slobbers crumbs on his cheek.  He sleeps on the train, emotionally exhausted from the entire weekend he can’t help himself and he wakes up just before the station, more rested than he’s felt in days.  He stretches and checks his phone.

[707]: I see you  
[707]: You can’t see me  
[707]: Look out the window before you get up  
[707]: Missed you

Yoosung glances out the window, but he doesn’t see anything, just a few people milling about.  It’s still really early and he wonders if maybe he just isn’t awake enough to know what he’s looking for.  He gets off the train and wonders through the gate yawning.  He’s part way through the parking lot thinking about which bus he takes from here to Seven’s when he remembers the texts. 

 _I see you, you can’t see me_ , was Seven watching him on the CCTV or was he here?  Yoosung turns around and examines the parking lot.  It’s not full, but it’s full enough that he can’t really decide if one of the bright red cars he can see belongs to Seven.  He tries to run down his mental checklist with all of Seven’s cars while scanning the cars in front of him and walking slowly back to the station doors. 

There was the red car, he recognized it more for the horn than anything else, and there was a star decal on the gas cap because Yoosung liked that one best, it had the most comfortable seats as far as he was concerned.  There was also the Silver one, the one Seven called his baby car, it was the most recognizable and definitely not in this parking lot.  The other was black, it looked _normal_ mostly.  It was fancy, like something Jumin would ride around in and Seven would pick him up in it on special occasions, like RFA parties. 

He squints at the cars in the lot, the black car _could_ be here, or maybe the red, there were other’s too but he’d never actually seen Seven drive any of the other ones. He frowns and walks back into the station.  He was supposed to look for something, maybe he would see it now that he was more awake, maybe it was the car?

He does a lap around the station and tries to inspect anything he could have seen from the train window, he’s crouched down poking at a suspicious piece of garbage when he sees a foot in combat boots, a pale leg, hears a giggle.  He looks up into the smiling face looking down at him.

“Are we in danger?” She whispers. “Is it a bomb?”

He frowns. He’s seen those boots before.  He tilts his head and watches the face, the freckles, the lopsided grin, _purple hair_. “Seven?”

“Who’s he?” She smiles wrapping an arm around him. “Sounds handsome, should I be jealous, Yoosungie?”

“Are you, was this what I was looking for?”

Seven nods and takes a step away from him before doing a little twirl. “What do you think.”

He hadn’t padded his chest, he did sometimes, but the skirt flared out around his hips and the hair looked _real,_ better than the other wigs he’d seen his boyfriend in.  Yoosung had totally missed him at first, he’d seen the girl with the purple hair when he’d looked out the window, just like he’d seen the Man with a dog, and the guy in a suit and the woman in scrubs.

“Can I,” Yoosung sighs and presses his lips together. “Can I touch you?”

Seven giggles and nods and lets out a girlish squeal when Yoosung pulls him closer to press their lips together, but he wraps his arms tight around the blond boy’s waist, lifting him up on his toes as he kisses him back.  Seven breaks the kiss with a sigh and runs his fingers though Yoosung’s hair with a sad look on his face for a moment before he grabs him by the hand and drags him along behind.

He was driving the Red car again.

“I’m sorry,” he says when the doors have closed, “I didn’t mean to leave you like that, I was going to give it ‘til I stopped for gas and call you but then—”

“Your phone died because you’re an idiot who forgets his charger,” Yoosung finished for him, but the goofy smile on his face belies the bite in his words.

“You need to stop talking to my brother,” Seven laughs.

“Why?” Yoosung frowns.

Seven reaches out and runs a finger down his cheek. “My gut reaction was to run as soon as it went bad,” he admits, “I didn’t want to ruin your parents for you, but I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

“ _You_ didn’t ruin them,” Yoosung insists. 

Seven shrugs. “You were standing up for me,” he smiles, “so I couldn’t but then when they threatened to cut you off?”

“You ran!” Yoosung shoves him gently.

“No, no that’s not what happened!” Seven insists, trying not to laugh when Yoosung pouts. “I figured out where it was going right away, and it _looked_ like I ran, I couldn’t  just take you for a walk and _tell you_ my plan, your stupid goofy smile would have ruined it.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yoosung, I love you but you are a terrible liar and a worse actor.  Your parents would never have believed we really broke up if _you_ didn’t.”

He sighs.  Seven was right, if they’d let that play out and excused themselves, Yoosung could never have looked properly upset, not enough to fool his mother. “So what now,” he asks.

“Well now we wait a few weeks, you post a few pictures of us on your facebook, and then you take me to meet your parents.”

Yoosung stares at him.

“What?” Seven laughs.

“And then as soon as I can maintain my grades and hold a job you tear your wig off and we tell them to go _f-fuck_ themselves,” Yoosung nods.

Seven cackles, “We, _what?”_

“That’s what my sister said I should do.”

“What about the _children_ ,” Seven whispers appalled.

Yoosung snorts.

They work on the plan, that day they make a few stops and take some pictures with his phone, over the next few weeks the purple wig comes out a few more times, more photos of the two of them are taken, Yoosung uploads a few on his facebook, Seven tags Yoosung from a fake profile that seems like it’s existed forever.

The flow of photos is barely a trickle.  Breadcrumbs really and Yoosung is in awe every time Seven shakes his head and tells him to wait a few more days before he posts it.  But it’s barely three weeks before his mother calls him and asks him to come spend a Saturday afternoon, she suggests he bring his new friend and Yoosung is almost embarrassed at how easy it’s been.

“You come by it naturally I guess,” Saeran says around a mouthful of day old cupcake from Jaehee’s café.

Seven lets Yoosung drive the black car the day they go to his parents house, and Yoosung’s father whistles through his teeth when they get out.

“Now how does a kid afford a car like that,” his Dad coos.  He hadn’t even mentioned the red car, which Yoosung thought was much more impressive.

“My Daddy let us borrow it,” Seven smiles grabbing onto Yoosung’s hand.

“Well that’s very kind of him,” Yoosung’s mother smiles from the doorway.  “You must be Yoosung’s new friend.”

“Sae,” Seven chirps with a nod, “and I think, I mean I hope I’m his _girlfriend_.”

Yoosung has to suppress a smirk, “Y-yes,” he stammers, his mother’s eyes on him.  Seven wore a blue sundress with a cardigan over black leggings, he’d _borrowed_ a choker from Saeran though Yoosung doubted that he asked first and he was wearing a pair of clunky combat boots.  Yoosung liked the way he looked, he liked when he saw girls on campus dressed like that so that was how _Sae_ dressed.

His heart was in his throat more often than not that day.  Seven took every opportunity to tease him, swaying his hips to the music on the radio and trying to get Yoosung to dance with him. Offering to help Yoosung’s mother in the Kitchen, he alternated between jokes about _skirt work_ and insisting Yoosung had to help them to fight the patriarchy.  But largely Seven was himself with his voice pitched barely higher and a convincing regional accent.

The dress and the wig on their own weren’t even out of the ordinary and he’d insisted Yoosung call him Sae sometimes anyway, aside from the switch to feminine pronouns almost nothing about this day was out of the ordinary, except that his parents loved Sae and despised Seven. 

His mother doted on them at every chance. She even hand wrote a few recipes that even Yoosung hadn’t been able to talk out of her and tucked them in Seven’s purse.

It was funny for the first hour or so, but now, as they finished their dinner and his mother was trying to convince them to spend the night it was beginning to get grating.

“We really can’t Mrs. Kim, you’re so kind to offer but I promised my Daddy we’d have his car home tonight,” Seven was saying for a third time.

“I can call you father,” Yoosung’s Dad offers.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yoosung cuts in, trying to shake his mood. “I have a class in the morning anyway.”

“Come on now,” his father smiles, “I know the last few semesters were rough but you can miss one class.”

Seven shakes his head. “Oh no Mr. Kim,” he says seriously, “Yoosung _has_ to go to class.”

“Yeah,” Yoosung growls, “I _have_ to, it’s at the clinic, I can’t miss those.”

“If you can’t you can’t,” his father shrugs with a defeated chuckle.

His parents walk them to the car, his mother fusses over them the whole way and Yoosung feels sick to his stomach.  Seven’s plan had worked but he was sick that his mother’s attitude had changed so drastically with just a wig and a dress. 

He drives to the station and pulls into the parking lot so Seven can drive home, not entirely confident in his night driving.

“It worked Yoosungie,” Seven smiles when they pass each other.  He grabs Yoosung by the butt and plants a hasty kiss on his lips before skipping to the driver’s side.  “Cheer up babe,” he sings, “we’re in the clear.”

Yoosung only frowns. “Can you take the wig off?”

Seven stops his teasing and nods. “Is there something wrong?”

Yoosung sighs. “No, it worked yay,” he deadpans.

“Okay,” Seven grimaces and pulls the wig away from his head and Yoosung cringes at the sound of the glue peeling away from his skin in the quiet car. He tosses the purple hair into the backseat along with the wig cap and Yoosung watches him pull at his eye lids and pinch the contacts out of his eyes before flicking them out the window.  He pulls his glasses out of the console and smiles at Yoosung.

And Yoosung breathes a sigh of relief at the return of his goofy boyfriend.

Seven turns the engine and they drive in mostly comfortable silence for a while before he can’t help but ask, “It _did_ go well right?  I’m a little rusty but it looked like they bought it.”

“Yes,” Yoosung nods and fidgets with his seatbelt.  “It went really well, they definitely believed us.”

“The best part,” Seven continues encouraged, “was I didn’t even really have to change anything, I was just me in a dress and they _loved it_ , your mother ate it up.”

“That’s not—that’s what was so _horrible_ ,” Yoosung groans pressing his temple to the window.

“Horrible?” Seven snorts, he starts to make a joke about how he didn’t shave his legs for _this_ but then he sees the look on Yoosung’s face and decides against it. He simply asks, “Why?”

Yoosung shrugs and draws his knees up to his chest. “The pictures were one thing, everyone falls for your pictures, even Zen, but they spent three hours with you less than a month ago and they didn’t even notice.”

“That’s a _good_ thing Yoosung, that means we don’t have to break up.” Seven says softly.

“It’s not a _good thing_ ,” Yoosung whines.  “I introduced them to someone important to me a few weeks ago and they didn’t even care enough to recognize that it was just you in a dress.  Mom couldn’t stop trying to feed you today but last time she didn’t even offer you a glass of water.  Th-that’s,” he throws his hands up, “it’s f-fucked up ok?”

Seven chuckles.  “You bet it is,” he shrugs.

They drive in tense silence for a while before Seven pulls off for gas. Seven changes in the car while Yoosung goes in to get snacks and pay.  He doesn’t fail to notice how Yoosung seems to relax when he sees Seven’s signature hoodie behind the wheel.

It hurts a little and he can’t help but pout.  “Do you not like it when I dress up,” Seven asks, glancing at Yoosung out of the corner of his eye as he pops open a can of PhD Pepper for him.

Yoosung shrugs, “No I-I don’t mind it’s just,” he huffs, “not like this.”

Seven laughs.  “So you prefer maid costumes and false eyelashes,” he teases and Yoosung blushes.

“N-no,” he squeaks.

“Still mad about your parents?”

Yoosung shrugs.

It’s quiet again, more comfortable this time while Seven tries to find the words he’s looking for.  He’s opened his mouth to speak so many times that Yoosung is already staring at him in anticipation when the words finally do come out.

“It must suck,” he says quietly.

Yoosung raises his eyebrows, “That’s all you’ve got?”

Seven chuckles and gives Yoosung a small shove.  “No,” he pouts, “it’s just you spent so many years thinking your parents were ultimately good people, you worried coming out might be awkward but,” Seven sighs and chews on his lip and takes the exit to his house.

“I never thought they’d be like this,” Yoosung tries to finish for him.

Seven gives him a lopsided grin. “I mean sure my childhood was fucked up but at least my Mom could never disappoint me like this.”

He doesn’t have to look to know there are tears forming in Yoosung’s eyes.  “Saeyoung,” Yoosung sniffles.

Seven shakes his head.  “I don’t mean it like that, just I guess I thought it seemed like so little effort to change your Mom back into a good person and I don’t even know if mine was _ever_ a good person.”

“She’s not a good person because she was nice to you today,” Yoosung insists, “it makes her worse.”

Seven laughs. “I guess the good thing about Mom is you can always rely on her to be openly fucking awful, none of this sneaky Mama Kim bullshit.”

Yoosung snorts and covers his mouth. “I’m sorry that’s not funny.”

Seven shrugs, “It’s kinda funny.”

He folds the arm rest up and pulls Yoosung closer to him, he had to hand it to automatic transmissions for making it easier to cuddle with his sad boyfriend while he was driving.  Yoosung rests his head against his shoulder.  When they finally pull into the garage and he shuts the engine off they sit there like that for a while.

Long enough that he starts to wonder if Yoosung has fallen asleep.

“I don’t want to do that again,” Yoosung says quietly when he feels Seven stretch.

“You don’t have to,” Seven nods. “We can take pictures some times to keep up the con, I’ll make excuses.”

“We’ll have to,” he groans, “Mom will want to _make sure_.”

Seven shrugs. “Next holiday we can tell them my rich Daddy invited us out on his yacht.”

“She’ll want pictures,” Yoosung whines.

“I bet Jumin has a yacht we can borrow,” Seven smiles.

Yoosung giggles and Seven hugs him closer. 

“Another year,” Yoosung sighs. “One year and I’ll be able to work without hurting my grades, maybe less but one year for sure.”

Seven nods and kisses the top of his head. “You figure out how many times we _have_ to see your Mom—”

“Christmas,” Yoosung says quickly, “for sure we have to go to Christmas but my sister will be there, and then Easter and maybe one or two more times.”

“Four visits,” Seven chuckles.  “One year, four visits and then you find a job and we’ll burn an effigy of your fake girlfriend and post a picture of us kissing in front of it.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Yoosung had been wrong about how often they’d have to see his mother.  It became clear around the third time they made excuses that she was suspicious but Yoosung did not want to relent.  He agreed to the next invitation but made excuses at the last minute, the next time he tried his father offered to call her family, invite them all to the house for dinner.

It sounded more like a threat than an invitation.

So they accepted the next few invites, Yoosung’s mood always sour the following day.  Both showering Seven with affection but also on edge, any small thing that went wrong would elicit either tears and apologies or a long rant.  Seven let him be, it only ever lasted a day and he was back to his normal happy self. 

They ended up finding a schedule that kept his mother happy, less suspicious, but she never failed to bring them down in their happiest moments.

“—‘s a very nice girl, Yoosung,” he could hear Mrs. Kim on the other line when he slipped into Yoosung’s apartment, a combination of the way she spoke and the volume of Yoosung’s phone carrying the other half of the conversation through the small apartment.

“Yes she is Mom,” Yoosung said through gritted teeth, exams were over and he was ready to reclaim his LOLOL title, finally number one with the retirement of the mysterious HackerGod.  Seven could see him mouse-ing over his characters waiting for the call to end.

“It’s just that I worry when I see you spending time with _that boy_.”

Seven’s ears perked up, they were very careful, there was almost never pictures of him on the internet anyway, even on the facebook account he maintained his face rarely appeared.  He only every allowed it for—

“That was an RFA meeting Mom.”

“I realize that sweetie but is it really a good—”

“I can’t control who’s a member Mom,” Yoosung growls his cheeks hot as he glances back at his boyfriend pulling out his own laptop.

“Perhaps I could speak to that nice man in charge, that Jumin Han, he seemed so nice last time I spoke to him.”

He lets out a sharp breath and sets his computer down on the beat up coffee table.  He can almost hear Yoosung’s teeth grinding while he tries to form a reasonable excuse for her not to.  Seven walks over to him and rests his hands on Yoosung’s shoulders pressing kisses to the top of his head and then across his forehead when the blond boy leans back and looks up at him.  He smiles and Yoosung forces himself to smile back.

“Mom, Seven works very hard for the RFA, you could just trust me,” he presses his lips together before he forces himself to say, “I love Sae now, it’s fine. Everyone is fine Mom.”

“I may call him anyway, just in case, you have another of those parties coming up don’t you, are you going to take Sae?”

“It’s work Mrs. Kim,” Seven calls out, his voice pitched slightly up, “Yoosung won’t have any time to dance with me so I refuse to go.”

He can hear her on the other end, flustered and apologizing, but he’s smiling his goofy smug smile when Yoosung hangs up and swivels in his chair to look at him.  “What?” He pouts, adjusting his clips where his phone had pushed them askew.

“It’s at least good that she thinks we’re two different people right?”

“That’s what you took away from that?” Yoosung snorts.

“I’m thinking about retiring from IT and joining Zen on the stage,” he says dropping into Yoosung’s lap.  “Maybe Sae could be my alter ego, and when you break her heart and go back to you filthy man loving ways she can _date Zen_!”

Seven erupts into a fit of laughter as Yoosun shoves him off his lap, but he’s laughing too.  It’s been Six months since Yoosung’s parents had met him, almost a year since he’d admitted to Yoosung that _; No Babe, friends don’t actually practice kissing with one another outside bad teen films_ , almost a year since Yoosung had said _thank god because I think I love you._

No one had been surprised when they started dating.  Seven’s attempts at romance were kindergarten level, they could all tell _why_ he picked on Yoosung, they were just waiting for Yoosung to figure it out.  Yoosung had seemed disappointed by the reaction.

“Did you bring them,” Yoosung asks from his computer desk, already logged in now, not even glancing back at him.

“Bring what?” Seven asks innocently as he starts up LOLOL.

Yoosung snorts, he reaches into the little cube fridge on his desk and tosses a PhD Pepper to him without looking. Seven smiles, _god he loved this tunnel vision nerd_. “You know what,” Yoosung says with a wave of his hand that Seven knows means _get on with it_.

“Condoms?” Seven asks logging his character in, HackerGod may have retired but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Yoosung keep his hand-me-down title.

“ _Saeyoung_ ,” Yoosung whines.

“Yes I _brought them_ ,” Seven chuckles, knowing Yoosung means Honey Buddah Chips, but still liking to tease him.  “They’re in my trunk but you have to get them yourself, I feel like your dealer, it makes me feel dirty.”

“Aw really?” Yoosung turns now, puppy dog eyes engaged, big fake pout.

“Yes really,” Seven nods, he’s going to be firm today, he’s not going to fall for the puppy eyes.

“ _Please?_ ” Yoosung swivels his chair and bats his eyelashes.

“Babe,” Seven says, trying not to laugh.  If he laughs Yoosung will win, and Yoosung won way too often these days.

He pouts and he brushes his hair out of his face, flashing his best sad eyes at his boyfriend before he heaves himself out of his chair with a groan.  He shuffles past Seven on the couch, another pout carelessly tossed in his boyfriend’s direction before he slips his sneakers on and opens the door.

“Hey,” Seven calls from the couch and Yoosung turns, a big smile on his face turning confused when he hears the jangle of keys.  “You need these to open the trunk, Yoosungie.”

He struggles to catch them, managing mostly to bat them out of the air and straight to the floor. He grumbles when he has to pick them up.  When Yoosung is out the door Seven sits down at his computer, giving one playful spin on the protesting swivel chair before typing in a few commands to make Yoosung’s character effectively unkillable.

He’s sitting back at the couch looking bored when Yoosung lumbers through the door.  He drops the keys on the table next to Seven’s laptop and sits heavily on the couch with the box in his lap.  It’s covered in stickers, and Yoosung can’t help the smile, a combination of animal and medical themed stickers decorate it with little heart doodles.  Seven always decorated the box.

“You want a bag?” He asks, carefully opening the box.

Seven shakes his head and produces his own bag from his backpack. “Brought my own Cutie-Pie.”

“You’re a _jerk_ ,” Yoosung laughs and reaches into the box.

Seven turns to him. “You should reach to the bottom, I bet those bags are fresher,” he smirks.

Yoosung cocks an eyebrow but he does what his boyfriend says.

It’s easy to find the surprise at the bottom of the box, the hard metal box beneath crinkling bags full of air and chips.  Yoosung pulls it out and sets the big box on the floor with a curious glance at his boyfriend.  Seven is suddenly very busy sorting his inventory on LOLOL.

“What’s this?” Yoosung asks softly.

“Did you know,” Seven says lazily, but Yoosung can hear the nerves in the way he tries to joke, “that the next party is on our anniversary.”

Silence.

And then Yoosung is pressed against him, arms wrapping around him pressing kisses to his cheek, his nose, his temple, and his hair, he hasn’t even opened the box yet. “I didn’t,” he starts nervously toying with the smooth metal case in his hands, “I didn’t realize we had one of those.”

Seven laughs.

“I mean the way it happened, it’s not like one day we were friends and the next we were boyfriends,” Yoosung whispers.

He nods, “I just sort of picked a day in the middle,” it’s a lie.  He picked the day Yoosung had said he thought he loved him. “I thought you’d want to celebrate but I didn’t want to make a fuss at the party.”

“You’re a liar,” Yoosung chuckles, “you’re dying to make a fuss at the party.”

Seven laughs, “Okay, you’ve got me but you know we can’t.”

They’re quiet for a moment.  Mrs. Kim had infiltrated almost every second of their lives.  Making an effort to not even be seen standing too close to one another in the background of someone else’s photos.  Now she was infiltrating RFA meets via Instagram and harassing Yoosung.  He’d love for it to be over but he knows how badly Yoosung wants to rely on himself after this and he respects that.

Yoosung swallows, he presses his arm against Sevens and opens the box, a little gasps escaping his lips. “Saeyoung.”

“Do you like it?” He knows he’s blushing, Yoosung hadn’t exactly asked for a watch and he’s worried he’ll have an idea how much money he’s spent on it but he pushes forward turning it over in the smaller man’s hand. “Look I had it engraved.  I thought it was something you could wear in front of your Mom without making her suspicious.”

 _1011000011_ is engraved on the inside of the watch.

“ _Wow_ ,” Yoosung breaths, “it’s, _wow_.”

Seven smiles, “You like it?”

He nods, “But I don’t know what it means,” he says, his voice still low.

“707.”

Yoosung doesn’t realize just how expensive the watch is until he wears it to the party.  Seven expects it to be Jumin to break the news but he’s surprised when Zen whistles through his teeth and takes Yoosung by the wrist. “Damn, he’s really fallen for you huh?”

Yoosung pulls his arm back and shrugs with a goofy grin on his face. “I dunno, probably.”

Seven chuckles as he follows Jaehee behind the stage to fix some small technical problem she’s claiming is the end of the world.  He’s almost done when Yoosung pushes the curtains aside and stomps towards him.

“How much money did you spend on this?” He demands.

“That’s rude,” Seven chuckles frowning at the computer screen.

“It’s too much Saeyoung.”

Seven shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“I can’t, it’s too much,” Yoosung has the watch in his palm holding out towards Seven.

“I can’t return it, Yoosung,” he smiles closing his boyfriends hand over the watch, “not with the engraving.” He didn’t know if it was true or not and he hoped Yoosung wouldn’t either.

Yoosung sighs. “Why would you spend so much on _me_?”

“If you don’t like it,” Seven smiles and kisses him on the cheek, “you could always sell it, doesn’t matter to me.”

It takes Yoosung a full minute before he realizes what that means. “You’re impossible,” he says putting the watch back on.

Seven shrugs.  In retrospect that was probably the moment it happened.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckles as Yoosung struggles with the curtain behind him.

“I can’t, you, ugh,” Yoosung groans and hooks his arm around Seven’s.

“It’s your choice, I don’t mind either way, you could sell the watch and you’d have next semester’s tuition if you need it, or you keep it and you have a _very nice_ watch.”

Yoosung whines again and buries his face in Seven’s shoulder for a moment before they step apart, the first few guests of the night filter in and they begin the ritual of being separate in public.

It’s weeks later when Yoosung gets a call from his sister.

“Yoosung,” she says, and he sets his controller on Seven’s coffee table gesturing for Saeran to turn the TV down.

“You sound worried what’s wrong.”

The twins turn to look at him.

“You sound _fine_ ,” she says carefully, “so you haven’t talked to her yet.”

Yoosung’s face falls and the twins mouth _what’s wrong_ at him in unison.

He shakes his head and walks away from the couch. “Why,” he asks.  They’d met his parents for lunch in the city a few days before, nothing had seemed off.  His mother had even seemed more relaxed, he hadn’t even been as upset afterwards.

“You know your party was in the paper right?”

Yoosung shrugs and makes a non-committal noise.  Jaehee had mentioned it but he hadn’t really thought about it, he didn’t get the paper and he hadn’t considered looking.  It wasn’t the first time, it had been years since they started, and this was at least the third party since Jumin and Kit had taken over.

“Yoosung,” she says, “there’s a picture of you with your boyfriend.”

“That can’t be right,” he says, he felt so calm.

“Yoosung I’m looking at it,” she says softly.

“It’s just a group photo right,” he says, he knows he should be panicking but everything seems to be slowing down. Kit showed them all the official photos from the party, the whole group approved every photo they’d sent to the press. “I think Jumin stood him behind me?  Jumin has this—”

“Yoosung you’re standing on a stage holding his hand,” she says.

“No,” He says with a bit of a laugh, “no I don’t think so, I don’t think that happened.”  He’s still so calm, he feels like he’s floating.  Maybe he’s died, he considers, maybe his mother killed him with her mind and he’s dead.

“Yoosung _I am looking at it_ ,” she stresses.

He chews the inside of his cheek.  “Does she know?” He asks softly, grabbing the back of a chair, his chest if tight now and the calm floating feeling starting to dissipate.  The twins are behind him and somewhere underwater he hears Seven’s phone chime.

“She, I, Yoosung I don’t know.  She told me to get the paper, I think so,” his sister sounds nervous.  “But she hasn’t called you.”

He shakes his head and then he swallows, “N-no, I, no she hasn’t.”

Seven’s hand is on his elbow and he doesn’t hear what his sister is saying because all he can hear is “—ext week Mrs. Kim?  I don’t really know you should probably call Yoosung, ab— s-surprise him?”

Yoosung turns and his eyes meet Seven’s, he looks as confused as Yoosung, all he can do is nod.

“—ung, _Yoosung_ ,” his sister is almost yelling.

“Sorry, I’m here,” he turns from Seven back to his own conversation.

“I’m in the city right now, are you busy?  Can I buy you lunch.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yoosung groans.  Things had been going so well, she wasn’t on his case he was hoping to get through Christmas.  Christmas money could have been put away with the bits he’d managed to save here and there, a few months rent at least.  His grades were back up but he’d had to work so hard, could he do the same with a job.

Could he sell the watch?

“Yoosung, remember that place Dad used to take us when we were kids, right before school started every year when we’d come into the city for our school supplies?”

“I can’t,” he tries and swallows again, “I can’t afford to buy lunch, not—”

“I’m buying Yoosung, bring your boyfriend.”

Yoosung fills Seven in while he grabs his things, and throws a sweater at Seven while apologizing to Saeran.  He’s a nervous mess in the car on the way to the restaurant, he doesn’t stop and wait to be seated, and it’s Seven who apologizes to the Hostess as he’s dragged behind Yoosung to the corner booth near the kitchen where a pretty woman in her late 20s , by Seven’s estimate, smiles at them.  The same Lavender eyes as Yoosung staring out from beneath golden brown bangs.

“I already ordered,” she says and the smile on her face starts to fade and she sizes him up, “so you’re my brother’s boyfriend.”

Seven nods as Yoosung slides into the bench across from his sister.

“Does he talk?” She laughs.

“I normally can’t stop him,” Yoosung glances at him and Seven slips in beside him.

“Sorry,” Seven says softly, “you two look a lot alike.”

They both blush.

“Mom hasn’t called you yet?” his sister asks.

“I, no Yuna, she hasn’t called _me_ ,” he says looking at Seven.

“She called me,” he nods, “but she didn’t say she knew, she wanted me to bring you to dinner Friday, s-she said to surprise you.”

He squeezes Yoosung’s hand in his own while they look to his sister.

“She invited _you_ , to bring Yoosung to a surprise dinner?” Yuna frowns, and Seven watches as her face contorts into the same expression Yoosung wears while studying. “Why wou—”

“She didn’t know she was inviting Seven,” Yoosung cuts in, like he’d only just remembered.

“What?” Yuna asks, her frown deepens.

“Sae, she was inviting Sae to dinner to _surprise_ me,” Yoosung finishes. “Seven _is_ Sae.”

“Wait,” Yuna covers her face and they all sit back as a waiter places drinks in front of them and apologizes to her about the wait for their food.  She forces a smile and waves him off. “Yoosung what do you mean he’s Sae.”

Seven laughs, they both pull out their phones and pull up photos.  “She’s just me in a wig,” he shrugs.

 “And _Mom_ hasn’t noticed?” Yuna covers her mouth, but the giggles spill out anyway.

Yoosung shrugs, “She made comments about how I better not break _that girl’s_ heart the couple times Seven and I were too close to each other in the background of Zen’s selfies so I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re parents looked too closely at me when they met me,” he says and Yoosung hugs his arm.

“What is _she doing_ ,” Yuna groans.

Yuna pulls a newspaper out of her purse and lays it down in front of them and Seven sends a photo of it to Jumin while the siblings frown at each other.

“She didn’t invite you to dinner though?” Yoosung asks and Yuna shakes her head.

“Normally Father Park would be coming to dinner and with Joon not being Catholic she doesn’t normally invite us.”

Yoosung and Seven glance at one another. “So she’s inviting _Sae_ and I to dinner with Father Park?” Yoosung says slowly.

“Oh,” Yuna covers her mouth.

“Is he all, _you know_ , fire and brimstone?” Seven asks.  He’d always been careful to find services held by more moderate priests.

“I don’t know,” Yoosung looks to Yuna but she shrugs, “he’s new, since I left for school.”

“Father Rhee was brimstone,” Yuna adds, “he suggested Mom disown me until Joon converted but I guess people probably just assume he’s catholic when they see him, or you know _normal_ people don’t even care.”

“More convenient that, than being the wrong gender right?” Seven snorts.

“You know she had the girls baptized while I was having my appendix removed?” Yuna chuckles.

“S-she said you asked,” Yoosung stammers.

“You were there?” Seven frowns.

“I was visiting over summer break because Mom needed a hand with the girls.”

“Yoosung is a godfather.  When she kills me for taking his side are you prepared for that responsibility?” Yuna laughs.  “It’s not a big deal, I mean I go to church when we visit but we’re not really anything, so she splashed some water on their heads. At the time I was mad but it’s one less guilt trip so I let it go.”

“Is that what I should do,” Yoosung sighs.

“What?” Yuna and Seven almost shout.

“No, Yoosung, of course not.” Yuna shakes her head. “She’s passed far beyond harmless infuriating bullshit.”

Yoosung shakes his head.

“Are you going to be ok without the money?” She asks.

“I have a little saved,” he says quietly as their food is set in front of him, “and I’ve got my grades back up, I don’t know how I’ll deal with a job and classes and having to be in the clinic again next semester.”

“Do they do like, apprenticeships?” Yuna asks, “Can you get your clinic hours in and get paid?”

“I-I don’t think so,” Yoosung shrugs and fiddles with his watch.

“There’s always Jumin, he could probably hire you on as a temp at C&R,” Seven smiles.

“I don’t know if I could work for Jumin, especially now that Jaehee isn’t there.”

Seven chuckles. “You know I bought you that watch just for this reason.”

Yoosung sighs. “I know but, I don’t want to sell it just for _me_.”

“A watch?” Yuna cocks an eyebrow at them and Yoosung holds out his wrist.

“You know,” Seven smirks, “I could always just hack the school, if you lose your scholarship.”

“No!” Yoosung squeaks, “I don’t want that, I don’t— I appreciate you offering all of this but I want to do it myself, if I sell this watch I want it to be for something _us_ not for _me_.  I don’t want you to hack for me, it’s bad enough you’re still doing it for Jumin.”  He starts aggressively shoveling his lunch into his mouth as if to end the conversation and both Yuna and Seven laugh.

Gradually the conversation turns more casual.  Seven loosens up and eggs Yoosung on to tell stories, Seven’s favorite being the time Yoosung had been volunteered during a livestock lesson to aid in a birth.  _Yeah I’m still confident in our relationship,_ Seven liked to joke _, who hasn’t been shoulder deep in a vagina in this day and age_.

Yuna had cackled and Seven had blushed.

“You were kind of _quiet_ ,” Yoosung says on their way back from lunch.

“You told me to shut up three times,” he laughs.

Yoosung sighs, “You know what I mean.”

“I just,” he adjusts his glasses, “I wanted to be sure she was really on your side.  Mom used to play Saeran and I against one another.  I didn’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He waits for Yoosung to get defensive but all he does is laugh. “But she passed then, she’s safe.”

“I’m gonna have to run a background check just to be sure, check her credit, see if she has any shady underworld connections.”

Yoosung laughs. “God, you know Mom could be thankful, at least _my boyfriend_ is Catholic.”

They both laugh.

“What was Yuna like when you were little?” Seven asks quietly. “You never really talked about her before.”

“I didn’t really know her before,” Yoosung shrugs.  “She’s a lot older than I am.  She was nice to me, except when she wasn’t but I think it was all normal sibling stuff. She moved out when I was nine or ten.”

Seven takes him home and he’s waiting for his bus when he gets the call from Jumin.

“Yoosung I wanted to let you know that Kit and I have spoken with the Newspaper, Seven has mentioned the photo has caused some trouble he was not specific.”

“I-It’s fine Jumin, we’re uh _dealing_ with it,” Yoosung tries.  He doesn’t want to think about the photo or the weekend right now.

“Never the less, we had provided images to a number of publications, had this been a questionable photo of Zen or myself, or had it shown more of Seven’s face, we make these arrangements for a reason, it’s a breach of contract. I wished for you to know that I am not taking this lightly.”

“Thanks Jumin.” Yoosung drops into a window seat.

“Yoosung,” he can hear the tone of Jumin’s voice change and he braces himself, “Seven did not provide me with details of your trouble but I have to wonder, is this to do with your scholarship?  Have your grades slipped again?”

He groans, it was not what he was expecting but it was just as bad. “No Jumin, I’m doing a lot better in school, you know since everything.  I don’t know it’s been better my grades are fine.”

“Hmm, that is good to hear.  I had thought perhaps that had been his reason for buying you such a extravagant watch.”

“My _watch_ ,” Yoosung coughs, “how does everyone know about this watch but me? What about my watch?”

Jumin chuckles. “Seven had asked me to recommend a watch that would be worth a semester at university, he was not _subtle_ , Yoosung.”

Yoosung sighs and sips at the coffee in the thermos Seven had given him.  He stares at the stainless steel cup and wonders if this is another mystery investment gift.

“I had simply wondered,” Jumin continued, “if you do find yourself in need of a job you need only ask, I hope you know that.  I would certainly make concessions for your time similar to those I’ve made with Seven.  I would make sure not to impact your school work, perhaps find something you could do remotely.”

“I-uh, thanks Jumin, if it comes to—thanks.”

The only times Yoosung feels at ease that week are when he’s working with animals and when he’s alone with Seven.  Even when they discuss what kind of things that might happen this weekend Yoosung feels calmer just knowing Seven has his back.

“What if they want to send you to one of those camps or whatever?” Saeran says giving his brother a shove the night before the dinner.

Yoosung chews on his lip. “I don’t think, I mean I’m an adult they’d have to have my permission right?  We’d just leave.”

“Yeah?” Saeran says leaning forward, “What if you can’t _just leave_.”

“Then I’ll come get him,” Seven frowns shoving his brother back. “Got you back didn’t I?”

Saeran snorts. “And I don’t even suck your dick.”

“Jesus, Saeran,” Seven laughs hitting his brother with a pillow while Yoosung hides his face.

They get up early the next morning.  Seven wrapping himself around Yoosung and burying his face in his hair, he whines when Yoosung tries to drag them both out from under the blankets, holding on tighter while his boyfriend laughs and struggles.

They shower together, laughing at one another as they brush their teeth in the shower to save the time Seven had wasted in bed.  Seven makes exaggerated sex noises while Yoosung washes his hair and then he pulls the smaller man closer to him and kisses him softly when he sees the blush on his face.

Seven is still in the bathroom with his towel around his waist staring into the mirror when Yoosung is finished getting dressed. “Not that it matters,” Yoosung tries to laugh, “but we’re going to be late.”

Golden eyes turn lazily to him and Seven smiles. “I know I just can’t decide how far to take this today.”

Yoosung looks at the makeup brushes and pencils sitting on the bathroom counter in front of him, next to a new package of daily contacts.

“Wear your glasses,” Yoosung shrugs. “It’s not like it matters right?”

“Are you sure Yoosung? What about—”

“And eyeliner,” Yoosung adds with a smirk, “not for her, I just _thinkitscute,_ ” the last few words run together as he loses his nerve.

Seven reaches out and pulls Yoosung against him again, tilting his chin up and staring down at him. “Cutie pie,” he coos and Yoosung can feel himself melt as Seven’s tongue slips into his mouth.

He lets out a small whine when Seven pulls back with a smile.

“We don’t have to go,” Seven smirks, “you could tell her off on the phone and we could spend the day in bed, test out Saeran’s noise canceling headphones?”

Yoosung can feel his ears turning pink and it takes considerable effort to bring himself to push away from his boyfriend.  Of course Seven could have simply asked him to sit on his couch and watch him field C&R IT calls for 8 hours and if would have sounded more appealing than whatever they would be walking into at his parents.

“Have you tried turning your boyfriend off and then on again?” Saeran grumbles shoving Seven out of the bathroom.

Seven laughs and grabs the eyeliner off the counter before stumbling into his blushing boyfriend.  “Come on,” he laughs, “I could put this on and we could go back to bed.”

Yoosung groans. “No I wa- _need_ to do this.  We need to see it through.”

“I guess I did promise Yuna that I’d send her a picture of your Moms face when I took the wig off.”

“What?  When?”

“She called yesterday while you were in the bathroom, she also promised to send me baby pictures.”

“What!”

“Cute little Yoosungie baby pictures,” he giggles as Yoosung throws a pair of pants at him.

“Hey,” he laughs falling over, “what am I wearing this for, I thought you wanted her to be surprised.”

“That was past Yoosung,” he frowns digging through Seven’s dresser.  “Now I just want to get this over with.”

Seven had spent the evening before carefully braiding the purple wig in case the opportunity arose to be as dramatic as possible and once he’s dressed Yoosung helps him pin the wig on instead gluing it like he normally would.

The two hour drive to Yoosung’s parents house is quiet.  Neither of them really know exactly what they’re driving into, Mrs. Kim had asked _Sae_ to surprise Yoosung but it’s not as though Yoosung would still be surprised by the time they got to the house, and Yuna had said they invite their priest to dinner, apparently many of the congregation did this.

Yoosung worried about what Saeran had said, about what would happen if they were prepared to try to force _anything_ on to him.

Seven worried about his temper, and he worried about Yoosung.  He could handle how messed up his own family was, and he could handle Yoosung’s parents but _he_ was used to shitty families.  Yoosung had grown up thinking his parents were old fashioned but basically good people and now he was watching that dissolve at a terrifying speed.  Yoosung had always had his family to fall back on, and Seven hoped that he could pick up the slack.

There was a period where he could see Yoosung staring wide eyed ahead that he wished he’d asked someone else to come with them.  Maybe his brother, or Zen.  Maybe he could call Jumin and have the entire RFA ready to storm Yoosung’s parents dinner and prove just how perfect he was.  Just how fucked up they were for doing this to him.

The Kim’s are waiting for them when he parks the car in front of their house.  Yoosung had insisted he bring the Red one, just like he’d insisted that Seven wear his glasses, and dress less femme.  Seven wasn’t sure if he was seeing how many boundaries he could push before they burst this bubble.  Or if he was proving to himself how little interest they’d taken in Seven so that he could rip the bandaid off easier.

“Father Park,” Yoosung’s mother is introducing them to the man in the sweater vest before they’ve even gotten their shoes off, “this is my son and his girlfriend.  I’m so sorry they’re late. Yoosung has never been punctual; I don’t know where he gets it from.”

Seven is pretty sure he can hear Yoosung growling under his breath.

Aside from glances the priest gives them, and the sad look Mrs. Kim has on her face when she thinks Seven can’t see her, there’s nothing particularly unusual about this dinner.  Yoosung’s father asks if he’d been surprised but Yoosung shakes his head.

“Sae doesn’t know anyone here, it was pretty obvious where we were going.”

The priest chuckles.

Seven takes as many chances as he can, he asks a number of questions of Father Park, all resulting in mostly moderate, largely open minded answers.  He has no idea where this dinner is going or why they continue to get pitying looks from this man.  Until they’ve finished dinner and Yoosung is helping Seven clear the table.

“Yoosung,” his father says in that tone he associates with their good cop, bad cop routine, “your mother was not entirely honest about why she asked Sae to bring you here.”

Suddenly Father Park looks very uncomfortable.

“Mom,” Yoosung starts, and Seven can hear how _tired_ he is.  It’s kinder than he’s been when speaking of, or to her in weeks. “Mom,” he says again when she doesn’t look at him.  “Why don’t you sit down Mom.”

“I am fine Yoosung,” she says with a frown. 

“Mrs. Kim it was kind of you to have me for dinner,” Father Park forces a smile, “I believe we discussed this.”

“I understand Father but I think we should all sit down and have this out in front of god and—”

“If _Yoosung_ , would like to talk with me about _anything_ , I would happy to offer him direction but this is—”

“No this is fine,” Yoosung says shaking his head. “It’s alright Father, if my mother wants to do this I’m ok.”

Mrs. Kim narrows her eyes.  “Does your girlfriend know, Yoosung?”

“Does my girlfriend know what Mom, come on.”

“Does she know you’re a homo,” his father finishes.  The room goes quiet but his father only shrugs.  “Or whatever the term is, however you called yourself.”

Seven watches the way Yoosung’s face contorts as he tries to find the words.  He watches the way his parents’ eyes narrow on him waiting for his answer.  He sees the way the priest is trying his best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

“I don’t _have_ a girlfriend,” Yoosung says quietly.  “I’ve _never_ had a girlfriend.”

Seven freezes, is this the moment, is this when he pulls the wig off and shouts something witty and eye opening?  But Yoosung isn’t looking at him; he’s staring daggers at his parents.

“Yoosung,” his Mother speaks firmly, “does she know?” She repeats.

“It’s obvious she cares quite deeply for you,” his father continues.

“Did they tell you,” he turns on Father Park, “that they invited me here to, _I don’t even know_ , out me to a person who doesn’t even exist.”

Father Park begins to talk and then stops, they all look at him and suddenly every smart ass comment he’s ever made in the history of his life was gone from his head.  So he smiles sheepishly and carefully pulls the wig off, stopping and pulling out the pins that stick.  He sets it on the table in front of him and runs his fingers through his hair.

“I look like I _care deeply_ , because I do,” Seven says.  “Just like the day I pretended to break his heart so I didn’t have to watch you disown him.”

Yoosung swallows.

“They don’t even feel _bad_ about it.” Mrs. Kim spits.

“I think I should go,” Father Park shakes his head, “you boys should leave too.”

“Is that all you have to say to them?” Yoosung’s mother turns on the priest.

“Mrs. Kim, I am aware some priests hold strong opinions on same sex relationships, I hope that I have never given that impression to my congregation.  Love is love and _my God_ respects and cherishes all love.”  He turns to the boys, “I can’t exactly say I approve of this elaborate lie but I can respect you doing what you need to do to keep yourself safe.”

“I, t-thank you,” Yoosung stammers, more from shock than anything else.

A flash goes off and everyone looks at Seven. “For the scrap book,” he smirks.

“Do you boys have somewhere to go tonight?” Father Park asks as he puts on his Jacket.

“No thank you, Father,” Seven says, feeling lighter for the affirmation.

“Yoosung,” his mother almost growls as the door closes behind the priest, “this isn’t over; you don’t think we’ll continue to pay for your apartment.  I’m going to phone Mr. Han, your charity group should be aware what kind of people they allow in, I’m goin—”

“You were the last person I had to come out to Mom,” Yoosung interrupts her. “Jumin has already offered me a job if you cut me off, Seven and I are _founding members_ of the RFA, and they’re like family, they knew before _we_ knew.” He fumbles with the clasp of the watch and sets it on the table. “ _This_ is my tuition if I need it, my boyfriend owns a house if I need a place to stay.”

“Everything seems so simple when you’re young and know everything,” his mother throws up her hands.

“Your mother and I are just _concerned_ about you Yoosung.”

“You’re not concerned about _me_ ,” Yoosung shouts.  “None of this has been about me, or you would have paid enough attention to the boyfriend I brought home to recognize when I brought him back in a wig.  You didn’t recognize his glasses or his car today.  You could see a tuft of his hair in the corner of an instagram photo but you didn’t see him sitting right in front of you.”

“We just want you to be happy,” his father tries again.

“You don’t want me to be _happy_ ,” his voice is shrill and he manages to laugh before he continues, “I _am_ happy.”

“You’re a shining beacon of happiness,” Seven says carefully stepping up beside him, “that’s why I keep you around.”

Yoosung’s eyes narrow on his parents as he reaches for Seven’s hand.  “It’s never been about me,” he says quietly shaking his head and squeezing Seven’s hand so hard it almost hurts, “it’s about what people will think of you.  What the ladies at church will say behind your back and that’s _not_ my problem.”

“Yoosung you _need_ us,” his mother says weakly, sitting at the table, “we’re _family_.”

“You’re not _my family_ ,” Yoosung shakes his head, he doesn’t sound sad anymore.  Seven hasn’t ever heard Yoosung like this before.  Resolved, and confident, “I have Yuna and Joon, and I have Seven, and his brother and the RFA, I have my friends at school, I don’t need you.”

He starts to tug Seven out of the house but Seven stands firm.

“Come on, I want to go,” Yoosung says, not turning around.

“Hey Babe, just a minute,” Seven smiles at Yoosung’s scowling parents and waits for the blond to turn.  “I was going to wait until finals but I dunno?  I feel like spoiling you to prove a point.”

Yoosung laughs, a genuine laugh.

“Hold out your hand, Babe,” Seven smiles and when Yoosung does what he’s told he drops the Keys to the red car into his palm and closes his fingers around them.  “Now you can get to work without the bus, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung whispers letting the taller boy pull him into a hug.

“She was my first car and now she’s yours,” Seven glances at Yoosung’s parents, “I would give you anything in my power to see you safe and happy, I just ask,” his voice cracks a little and Yoosung twists a little to loosen his grip so he can look at him, “I ask that if you want to sell her, you sell her to me.”

Yoosung laughs and shoves him a little.  His parents are doing their best to ignore this little display and when Yoosung tugs Seven along behind him to leave Seven stops one last time in the door way to call out jovially, “Thanks for supper Mom and Dad, can’t wait to do it again next week.”

 


End file.
